More Glimpses: Quentin W

By Elaine Phillips

Quentin Fredrick Whitford recently left a prosperous career in oil and gas to pursue an urgent desire “to do God’s work all day and every day”; Quentin is currently enrolled in the bachelor of Christian Ministry program at the Canadian Southern Baptist Seminary & College. He is married to his best friend, Kimberly, and they have two sons, Spencer and Landon, both aspiring artists and Lego enthusiasts.

Quentin’s hobbies include drawing, painting, and golf (as well as not writing poetry). His passions consist of loving the Lord with his whole life, loving his wife as Christ loves the church, fathering his children as the Father models being a parent, and making disciples to the glory of God.

The poem, “Futile to Fertile” (see previous post), Quentin’s first—somewhat reluctantly written for a required college class—reveals his Christian experience, his theology, and his yearning to see the power of Christ transform lives.

Imagery is pulled from the parable of the soils (Mark 4:3-4; Mark 4:5-8 ESV) and reflects biblical truth. Without the power of God, fleshly man stands hopeless in the endeavours of righteousness.

Quentin admits he grew up in the church desensitized to the gospel, “talking the talk but not walking the walk.” He went through the standard steps as a young believer, he says, “But I did not yield to the holy hand of God and allow Him to change my heart and renew me; not until I reached my late twenties did I feel the need to have an intimate walk with God.”

For too long he lived the life of a Christian on his own strength—trying and failing, time after time—but he was convicted to the depths of his soul after listening to a powerful, honest, gospel message which showed him his need for total submission to Christ.

Quentin says, “I had to repent, throw myself at the feet of Jesus and allow Him to pull the scales off my hardened heart and expose it to His refining truth. Since then God has cultivated my heart soil to enable me to bear spiritual fruit. He has given me the Spirit’s power to conquer habitual sin as well as a renewed hunger and thirst for His Word and for righteousness.”

He recognizes that it is only by God’s power that his life has been changed, and only by His grace that he can now walk in assurance and joy, covered by the perfect, righteous blood of Jesus Christ. 

Futile to fertile

By Quentin Whitford

Parched and weary, the soil resists me;

the wind is raw, the cracks invade.

Barren, drained, desperate, yearning,

the seed destroyed, a darkened stain.

Incessant thorns, ankles bleeding;

bent and low, the blunted plough.

Wretched root, my heart deceives me;

perpetual toil, I must prevail.

Yoke consumes me, burden bleeding;

in vain I strive to no avail.

Resistant stone, my tissue failing;

affliction breaks the feeble bone.

Collapsing, failing: the ash receives me,

Broken, wasted, hopeless heap.

Crushed, defeated, empty, dying,

I cry, “Oh Master, I’m too weak.”

My eyes grow dim, my breath evades me,

my body still, lifeless and cold.

Awaiting death, I sense a shifting:

horizon fills with brimming cloud.

A distant rumble, a flash of light;

a rushing torrent consumes my soul.

My Master finds me, removes the bindings,

and places me on the solid stone.

A cup is placed to ruined lips:

a cleansing stream, a quenching flood.

Seed enriched, restored, revived

to gain life’s root, where once was death.

The field He sowed, the weeds cast out;

new beauty, fruit and bounty.

By His grace the harvest waits,

a scythe He places in my hand.

Without His power, His hand, His will,

I struggle and I toil in vain.

He alone will nourish the seed,

and He alone be praised.